This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, “It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here.”
Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can’t be comforted.
This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON’T.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they’ll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.
This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, “Did you see me, Mom?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand) mothers who wanted to, but just couldn’t find the words.
This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat. For all the mothers who read “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. And then read it again. “Just one more time.”
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home — or even away at college.
This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches assuring them they’d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.
This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman’s child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love… sometimes totally unappreciated!
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.
For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.
What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?
The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?
The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation…And mature mothers learning to let go.
For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without.
This is for you all. For all of us. Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can. Tell them every day that we love them. And pray. “Home is what catches you when you fall – and we all fall.”
I thought that with school back in, I would repost this one…The thing is we should teach out children, but more and more I see parents being stupid..yes I say stupid…really stupid….just watching for the “GO” signal and then whoosh…right off the sidewalk we go!!! Not even a glance to see if that car – you know the one that can kill you if it hits you – has stopped or even if the driver has seen you while he is texting, eating or even making a sandwich!!! I just don’t get it people – stop texting while you are walking, take the damn music out of your ears and be alert as you walk around!!! It is BOTH drivers and pedestrians that can stop the tragedy that can happen when we just step off the curb without looking….
Cars are still bigger than us!!
LOOK BOTH WAYS – TEACH YOUR CHILDREN
I was stopped behind a school bus yesterday that had the arm out. I watched as the wee ones and older ones filed out of the bus and walked right in front of me without even so much as a glance right and left. Some of the parents of the younger ones were actually encouraging their children to run to them for the “after school hug”. I said to myself – “so this is when it starts“.
It has always been a beef of mine when I see young children, teenagers and adults just stepping off of the sidewalk without a care in the world. My parents drilled it into my head that “I don’t care if you have the right away – that car is still bigger than you”. When did we stop teaching our children to look both ways before crossing the street?
THE LAST TIME – A POEM FOR PARENTS
CHILDREN – THEY GROW UP WAY TOO FAST
As I am nearing my 53rd birthday and my two sons have just celebrated their 24th and 27th birthdays, it is definitely time to reflect on WHERE DID THE TIME GO!!! There are a few “time travel” movies coming out this year and it got me thinking “if I could travel to a place in time when would it be”. At first I thought I’d love to go to a simpler time prior to industrialization, or maybe even into the future, but in the end, I would go to somewhere around 1992 when by sons were 4 and 2 – I would hug them, hold them on my lap, smell them – and not worry that they are late going down for a nap or that my laundry is piling up – because looking back now I know that time (more…)